Stubble, or Shave?
by rookieD
Summary: (AU). (Post 3.13). (Complete). Aka: The taskforce Andy went on didn't prevent her from contacting Sam. Beginnings, endings, and new beginnings the Sam/Andy way. WARNING: Contains several sex scenes and some language.
1. The Arrival

AN: Hey all, I'm new to fanfic writing (just an expert reader ;) Most likely I won't publish much at all - Outside of academia and reports for work, I tend to write only when I feel like being silly (APOLOGIES TO ALL THOSE DEDICATED TO THE LITERARY WORLD). In this case, I felt a little stressed about Sam/Andy and what the rest of Season 3 may hold. So... I kinda felt like making myself feel a little better by writing this little piece - if it manages to give a smile to anyone else in the process, that's great too!

**Please note also that some of this is based on some potential SPOILERY info re S3 finale that has appeared over on Two Worlds Collide. The spoiler is not verified, but...Read ahead at your own risk.**

Mostly, though this was inspired by some damn hot photos being tweeted about with Ben Bass wearing some glorious stubble :)

**Disclaimer: I own not much at all. I especially do not own Rookie Blue.**

* * *

It's his stubble that does her in when she comes down the escalator this go-'round.

Like, seriously? Sam always gives face in a way that makes her want to simultaneously jump his bones, and run for the hills. But – this look is _more_ than that.

What this looks like…(aside red-hot-sex-on-a-stick)… is Sam Swareks' last bastion of some secret self. A final frontier to the brick wall barrier he stood behind pre that dumbass bullshit break-up stuff.

_Ugh._

Sam obviously made some conscious choices for _this_ appearance at 'Arrivals' though. The look on his face has Andy's mind rejoicing. Security has left the building: the feelings guard is outta town.

That's right, people: Sam/Andy reunion redux has Sam sans sunglasses and signs.

_This_ time around the man that waits for her is the very vision (almost) of open, honest, and raw.

She stares at him, and then stares some more. Munches her bottom lip big time about how _good_ he looks in that stubble- the jeans, tee, and open-mouthed smile obviously happy to be aboard.

_Oh. My. God_, she thinks. _My…um…Sam…is insanely beautiful_. (Andy wonders if the stubble is deliberate, or not).

She had spotted him a long way back: the fuzzy heads and tanned tank-top shoulders in front of her seemingly doing their level best to keep the overwhelming swoop in her stomach at bay.

As she gets closer, his smile gets bigger. Hers does too.

Andy realises his hands (_those_ hands) had been wedged in his pockets. He lifts them out now. Scratches at his chest, neck, and face, before he reaches out to her. (For her). Swarek shy moments are endearing, _hooooo yeah_.

It's here that she can't resist herself. This is one hell of a fierce, clichéd opportunity to play out those douchebag dreams of hers from this past few months.

(They were always waking her, leaving her horny and stupidly wet. Always Sam looking her in the eye, telling her "I love you Andy. I, uh. McNally: I really just love you. I _want _you ….Fuck, I want _Us_…_so_ much". She would launch herself at him just as he was attempting all the 'sorries' and 'help me figure this outs' that he probably predicted he had left in the world. She realised immediately: Both of them were launching (in their own way) with everything they had - holding on with everything they've possibly got.

The late night/early morning "sex-me-up AND tell me all your feelings," phone calls to and from Sam across time zones did little to help her out: Andy was kicking butt in the move-your-sorry-ass-career-along temp assignment, but she realised early on - that despite the lingering hurt, she _missed_ him – _being_ with him - a horrible and stupid amount -

He got on a plane for her one time – that was the moment she forgot she had anything to forgive.

Yeah, last time she saw him he was still clean-shaven and uber-buff).

So, she launches again - this time for real. They kiss good and proper before, holy crap, without a word of a lie: Andy breaks into sobs, right here in front of Sam, God, and the world of Toronto's transit lounge.

Andy doesn't know why she's crying, it's not like everything doesn't bode well now – for them, for her, for everything.

(A lot of good words went down on the phone calls - alongside a whole lot of getting one another off).

It's just that it's not like last time she _didn't_ hold high hopes.

She only knows she wants him. She wants them: in every way possible. So fucking badly it hurts.

Andy keeps sobbing.

Sam tugs at her ponytail – gentle but firm. Stares her down with a look that makes her go heavy on him, feels him breathe for her as she drops her head and sobs some more. He lifts her chin and kisses her cheeks.

"Hey," she hiccups.

He straight out laughs in her face then - hits his teasing straps full stride with a double shot: "missed me pretty bad, huh?" and "Pull yourself together", reminding her of food fights and awkwardness all those nights ago.

"Dick," Andy scowls: "Crying _at_ you, not with you". _Hmph. _She attempts a dismount off him with that - shoving his chest and kicking his calves in a dismal effort to have him release his grasp.

He's having none of it though. Arms absurdly tight around her middle, Sam and Andy find themselves walking to baggage like two people faced front-to-front in some sort of transparent friggin' horse or camel suit.

"Tell me you're not shifting weird shit this time, Andy?" Sam says - evidently watching for oars as they crash headlong into baggage. She glances at that one sideways, gives him the bird before he grabs her hand and smacks her butt.

They stay holding hands. Smiling like the love-sick idiots that anyone else looking on thinks they truly are.

So, yeah. This time around things are actually 'normal'. Well, maybe not the normal that would be normal to the strangers passing by. But the electricity is on and the heating is up, the way things are when _they_…just _are_.

The ride home is filled with stretches of singing, silence, and shooting the breeze. Time is on their side for heavier stuff. With a few days off and away from Division 15, they'll spend it at home (either, or both, but definitely_ together_) – dating, making out, and navigating other parts of chapter two: making-up.

Pulling up slowly kerbside of Andy's condo she lifts the arm that was massaging his neck to slowly run her fingers down his face. She pauses around his lips, scrapes her nails lightly down the stubble of his chin.

They sit there. Just staring at one another for the longest of times, her fingers feather-light tracing over the three-day growth.

"This looks… heavenly…" she giggles. "Now, are you gonna let me help you shave?"

Sam swallows, then smiles.


	2. The ReBegun

AN: Okay, this was an experiment of sorts. (Who am I kidding, I just need these two to make the hell up before I go completely nuts). I guess some may call it a little smutty - but I don't think I've pushed it quite that far (I rather think of it as... a nudge toward adventure sex :)

If you can be bothered, let me know if you think it works.

AN2: The story was re-opened as I think I'd really like to get the shaving scene out. No doubt, it'll come...eventually ;)

**Disclaimer: As per Chapter 1**

* * *

By the time they get inside for keeps things are even more _super-charged_ between them (if that was even possible). There's a silence that is most definitely…_not_ a silence, and Sam pretty much hasn't taken his eyes off her since before she first opened the front door.

(It took them three trips to and from the truck to unload Andy's shit – mostly because Sam carted her under one arm and juggled a suitcase at a time in the other).

They stand together now in her kitchen. Still glued at the hips, hands and hearts.

"Missed you" he blurts out; twenty shades of seriousness while he rearranges that hot stubbled face.

He's not exactly looking at her when he says it.

But then he _does_.

It's like he's waiting now – checking in, maybe cautiously checking her out. He's making sure she knows he means it - probably doesn't trust or think that she'll say it back.

"Sam…," Andy starts. They've been clutching at one another since the airport, so she takes a step back for this, still holds one of his hands:

"Jesus. Sam, I missed you too…".

Andy hears him breathe.

(Hears herself ask "okay?")

They have another stare-off after that: both sets of eyes raking over the others body and face.

He's smiling now though. Just small. Enough of a signal to let her know – he's sorta' ready to field anything else she may want to know.

(The hundred odd telephone conversations they had this past few months go flashing through her mind: an intricate web of detail that has spun tight a need in Andy that she just has to know _more_).

But.

Quite honestly, right now she just wants to fuck him. And she _knows_ by the look of him, he _really _just wants that too.

(It's been a long stretch since that flying visit he made. 43 days to be exact.

Sure, they holed themselves up: four days of doing and saying a lot of shit that was a healthy contribution to getting them here.

But… _that_ was _surreal -_ some sort of honeymoon they should have had the first go around) -

Back here in Toronto: in Andy's kitchen? This here, this is _real._

She wonders for a fleeting moment if he'll ask that question he asked a long time ago: "so, how do we start?"

He doesn't though, if anything he reads her mind and cuts that thought short- probably worried about making the same mistakes again.

Andy knows she sure as hell is.

Instead, he leans into her. "Come. With me. Right now. I have something you need". His breath is hot and raspy and ragged and his lips are right on her ear -

_Shit._

Andy's body bucks right the fuck up. She thinks of joking about shaving brushes or boxing gloves, but for the life of her can't form the words. The only thing that is coherent in her brain when he hoists her up is that she wants his face – as is – all over every single inch of her.

She throws her head back as he carries her off to the bedroom; can't help but giggle and squirm at the way he squeezes her thigh.

He places her _fairly_ gently on the bare bed, her legs dangling over the bottom mattress edge.

Andy kicks up a foot to his hip, curling her toes in the pocket that sometimes holds his badge. Sam grabs her ankle then, gives it a shake and insists to her jeans: "you guys are coming off.…NOW."

Things from there go gentle to crazy in about 3 seconds flat: A flurry of four hands yanking at fabric and flesh. From the corner of one eye she sees her panties fly across the room. The last thing she grabs at is her bra- the item he's so far managed to only get halfway off.

The air in the room is cool, but their buck-naked bodies? Obscenely hot.

It's Sam that slows it down again- leaning all the way up and over her. One careful hand of his is pulling her ponytail out, the other holding himself in a low push-up- some kind of attempt to keep himself at bay.

He is so, so…. _so_ close though.

Andy feels _everything_ that's happening to every muscle in his body without it even really touching her. His breath is hot and hard on her lips, his eyes not budging from her own.

The hand in Andy's hair continues down to tease the goosebumps that keep multiplying across her neck. Andy is revelling at this point, just letting herself_ feel _his work- She comes to her senses only when she realises she isn't taking full advantage of this situation herself.

She makes a move on his shoulders – brushing her hands from there to his neck and face.

Andy realises just how tight she is holding him only when Sam declares through his squished up face: "you're beautiful," (looking himself like he's a goldfish on dope).

She's laughing hyena-like before she can stop; holding Sam tighter as he lunges full with his chest and kissing her neck like there is no tomorrow.

But the rollercoaster of physical emotional outlets that Andy has going on today has well and truly got the better of her. The stubble is _tiiiiiccccckliiiiish_, okay?

(Hysterics: she remembers the outbursts she had as a kid).

Sam, to his credit, seems undeterred. (More turned on maybe- if his breathing is anything to go by). And it seems like he's in for some fun himself…

Next things she knows they become some sort of crazy circus double act.

"Saaaaaaammmm!"

Andy finds herself (she swears to god) flipped in a backward handstand on the bed: her legs over his shoulders, hands grasping for traction on the un-sheeted bed.

What makes this more interesting (better) is that his cock is hard between her shoulder blades and his mouth is soft just north of her clit.

He's holding her lightly around the midsection: some pointed suggestion that she'll get the hint to play along….like… so he can move his hands about.

She does.

This can surely only last a while. For as athletic as they both are (god knows they've done some bendy stuff), Andy knows there are probably only so many handstand push-ups she can do to get the friction she needs before time… well, before time runs out.

Sam's on to her though. He pulls his face away and croaks out a simple "McNally: let me."

Before Andy can respond, Sam has his face in her again. His moist, warm tongue shooting over her clit; he's licking her from top to bottom- and stopping nowhere in between.

This time "Saaaaammmm," comes out in a whine. "I swear to god, I'll…"

_(Fuck… _screaming in her head, Andy's breath just won't let it all out.

It's an insane tease - no one was fooling anyone about how hard and/or wet they were throughout the entire lead up to this point).

_"SamSamSam"_ Andy's gasping as he's finally settled his tongue all the way inside. His hands are just a gentle brush over her ribs – circular motions matching the rhythm he's set on her _inside_.

And there it is… again. Sam and the search for Andy's g-spot. (No fingers, no cock, no attention to clit, the g-spot adventure is somewhat of an extreme sport). New position: New challenge – for both of them.

(One time she convinced him to give her four orgasms in a row this way. Come to think of it, Sam convinced her to go for the first three. It wasn't until all that convincing was done that she ever thought it possible anyway…

Let's just say: no man or woman before had ever gone to the lengths that Sam had to prove that Andy could come more ways than one).

This time it hits her from who the fuck knows where. Her state of upside-downedness, and what has become Sam's erratic tongue have left her dizzy in the best possible way.

She does though.

Hard enough that everything inside every part of her has been unwound. He kind of had to catch her too… at least hold her firm for the _minutes_ it takes for her to come down.

Andy feels her breath return as he rearranges her to somewhat of a normal position. She just lays there staring up at him – completely and utterly spent.

Sam, for his part, is slowly inching his way down, sliding them both all the way up the bed. He looks as though he is both smugly proud of himself – and stupidly pleased with her.

Andy can't say she blames him for that.

There are no holy molys or omgs that can follow this one up. She has absolutely nothing - aside the satisfying knowledge that they have only just…

(Re)begun.


	3. The New Stay

AN: I guess you could call this chapter a smut-filler? But, here's the thing: I will at some point be attempting a couple of relatively serious conversations between these two... (I do have some direction/thoughts on this: shock-horror). However... they have been apart for several days so it was very important for me to convey the fact that their reunion/days off would OBVIOUSLY include a lot of making-up-for-lost-time-luuuuurrrrrvvvvving (by way of sex n stuff ;) Hope you don't mind! LOL

**Disclaimer: I, for one, do not own Rookie Blue**

* * *

Sam's gives Andy practically minutes to recover.

All the while she can _feel_ how hard he is.

Andy wants to have a shot at him, how patient he is being. She reconsiders though when her subconscious comes right smack bang to the foreground- reminding her of the fact that he has never been anything but…patient. (Well, particularly with her).

Still.

She can't help but compromise with herself. She _wants_ to give him what he deserves.

Throwing one long thigh across his, Andy slowly skims softly from his knee to his hip… and doesn't move any other part of her body a single inch.

"And then what happened?" Andy states cutely: one of the many thousand rhetorical questions that Sam will no doubt haunt her with at a later date (or, like- now).

He remains for what seems like an eternity- un-comprehensibly and insanely still. (Andy swears to god he does not even blink an eye).

Andy, on the other hand, feels her inner thigh twitch as her mouth goes desert dry.

Sam looks down then- between the bare millimetre that separates their bodies. (How he's handling how _hard_ he is, Andy figures she will just have to query when this particular game is done).

She feels his cock move then though, just a little- like it's giving a quick kiss to her other inner thigh.

Andy knows as soon as the moment he looks back up: that. she. is. in …._trouble._

Sam feints to go left, but then goes right- one fluid motion rolling her all the way under him as he lines himself up.

And then his cock sinks all the way in - one thick push, and a shaky groan from both of them, as he bottoms out.

"And then what _happened_, McNally" Sam murmurs with a smirk and another hard thrust- one hand firm on her hip and the other going up into her hair.

(The 'happened' coming out a whole lot like there was intention for a whole lot of some sort of _happening_ that Andy would probably in no way object to, well… happening).

"_Shit_. Sam." Andy shivers as he slides back out.

Her fingers and hips race to fit him back in and fill the void, but Sam's two moves ahead of her- trapping her hands between the tight muscles of his stomach and sliding the underside of his cock over her where she is wettest (probably in the interest of making her moan, but – whatever – it's not like this is not working for him too).

Andy can still move her hips, but only just. It is therefore some sort of mother-nature-miracle then that when she rolls her hips on a second attempt, he's back inside her without him playing a part.

"_Please._ Sam. Just."

Andy's begging on this one seems to work, because he kick starts a rhythm that has her racing in fits and starts to catch up. (She seriously wonders if she will ever be in front of this game).

It looks and sounds like he's about to make fun of her desperation when he raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth, but something about the roll of her hips must surprise him- because he can only come out with a_ huff. _

Andy makes her own move on that, arching her back until her breasts sit high and taut where he could conceivably reach his mouth. She rocks the pace trying to force him to go faster and harder- throwing in some obscene sound effects for good measure.

Sam grits his teeth, grabs her hips, and returns to go-slow at a maddening rate: "You're ….something…McNally…"

She's there with him though- his long, deep strokes being matched by the hard roll of her hips. At this point they're both kissing messy like mad-people (all wound up with some place to go).

The prickle of his stubble is doing some of the dirtiest work. It's like he can't decide where to put his face while they're fucking, so he just puts it everywhere he can reach- from her breasts, to shoulders, to neck and finally her face.

Sam kisses hard into her mouth before he decides to look into her eyes (her soul, her heart): tells her once but loud: "love you" as he reaches down between them and sends his knuckles to work.

Andy comes (again) like that… making some noise that is a mix of expletives and 'God Sam'. _Tells_ him "don't stop" as she musters every ounce of her to keep him just where he is.

"I won't" says Sam as a matter of fact, pushing her further into the mattress as she bites hard into his shoulder and clutches at his back.

It's on the second bite (this one to his neck) that he loses it, "Andy…" coming out like it is something she has not at all, or ever, heard before. (It vibrates into her chest as he thuds his head down and says it again).

They stay like that for a really long time. Him fit between her and nestled into her neck, she with liquid limbs just holding him and regulating her breathing.

Andy thinks of nothing but how much she loves him.

Pulls his face up, then tells him so.

It's only when he shivers, Andy realises that oddly enough, the bed has not miraculously made itself during all this time. So, she goes to make a move (wants to keep him warm).

Sam just reaches out and grabs her by the elbow-

He pulls her back down with a soft, heavenly whisper:

"stay".


	4. The Morning After

AN: So, these two still haven't left the house (bed) yet. I really can't help that though - I truly feel the need to make up for lost time! A conversation is obviously brewing though- and never let it be said that they don't talk in bed ;)

AN2: I don't get a chance to do much editing, so please accept my apologies that sections may be clunky (or have some grammar/spelling mistakes). I never know when I'll actually get a chance to sit and write this, so my preference when I do have time- is actually to do just that.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue.**

* * *

Early sunrise (and cracking light through Andy's window) forces one of her eyes open. She half wants to close it again, but then doesn't- decides she really, really, wants to see what is making her feel…_well, what she currently feels._

They are tangled in one another and a single blanket- (Andy realises Sam must have recovered that particular useful item some time last night after he had completely worn her out).

Her back is tight and warm up against his front, and Andy spends a good two minutes thinking about how that is doing good _things _to a whole stack of parts of her.

Sam's right leg is wedged between both of hers, his right arm L shaped across her side, that hand securely on her left breast. It's his left arm that she smirks at next: his elbow is dipped under her head, his forearm hoisting hers up. The fingers of their left hands are intertwined- their left arms stretched together across the bed, like some sort of-

(Morning love salute?)

Andy turns her head just slightly to the right. She doesn't want to wake him. Doesn't want to move. In fact there is something so intimate and safe about this particular position that Andy feels a content that could last for days (months, years). What she does want though:

She wants to watch his face.

(All those heartbreaking days of the break-up that she forced herself to avoid his face… well, those days…. broke… her).

He seems to be asleep enough for her to cop a stare- his breathing tells her that- so she takes the chance to give herself a good long look at those ridiculously long eyelashes.

(Andy feels her stomach churning, thinking about the way he looks at her when he goes all shy- glance down-peep up-secret smile…_sure Swarek, real shy_).

When her attention turns to his lips, something warm starts to coil somewhere deep, near her belly. Andy blushes from there up as she thinks about where those lips have been, (and where she spent the better part of the last few months _wanting_ them to be).

_God. So? Sam's got a good mouth. So what, okay?! _

Andy finds herself hell-bent on examining his jaw next (after all, it's the thing that shows even more emotion than his eyes- if ever that was possible). She rolls her shoulder slightly to move it out of her obstructed view - takes in more of his handsome prettiness with a stifled sigh.

Her reverie is interrupted by a tiny shuffle from Sam (enough though…to let her know: not long now).

Andy twists her face back away from him quicker than she means to, closes her eyes and murmurs a half-yawn. It's meant to be her cover story:_ Look Sam, I'm asleep._

(Actually, come to think of it: she really wants to know what he might do if he _does _think she _is_ asleep).

She wonders if he's on to her though (he's never been a heavy sleeper, so it's quite possible he has been undercover this past 10 minutes himself - playing her during this entire investigation)…

Her suspicions are only further aroused when he nudges her with the leg that's between hers- and promptly moves his hips _down._

"Morning, McNallllly," Sam says low and quiet, as he butterflies her legs further apart to go lower…

He swipes his right hand in one long swoop from her breast to ribs to… cup her- gently- then promotes his index and middle fingers to work at her clit.

The low _groan_ in the room that happens then? It comes from both of them. It's a mutual agreement type of reaction to three simple facts: she's wet, he's hard, _and_ he just sank himself _into_ her from behind.

He scrapes his stubble across the right side of her neck, gives her lobe a gentle tug before he whispers in her ear.

"I dreamt about you," is what comes out. Matter of fact and everything- even as he creeps his fingers further down.

"Oh yeah?" Andy says in something more like a gasp-sigh- throwing him a "was I good?" as she pushes her backside up and into him.

"Actually, McNally" Sam huffs with a push, "I dreamt that you…you, um, left …again."

Andy stutters, and sighs.

His neutral tone barely gives anything anyway. (If it weren't for the punishing little thrusts he started up on 'dreamt', Andy would think he could care less about this conversational strain).

Andy is pretty sure they're going to (need to) have a conversation about this over OJ and toast, but the way he's moving his fingers on her means there literally is no blood that is circulating to the more logical and rational parts of her body for any talk right now. _No way._

He's nibbling at her behind the ear too. "You went a long, long, way away" he says- quickening his strokes.

(Andy wraps her right leg all the way back around him with that, his depth takes her own breath away-

_Whatever,_ she is desperate to let him know she never wants them to be apart again either. _Never, ever_).

Despite the serious tone, Andy thinks Sam might be happy to leave the conversation itself for another hour or so too. The sloppy tongue to her shoulder shortly after her leg move is a dead giveaway…probably.

He continues on though, his tone becoming a little less, well…a little less neutral is what Andy is thinking: "Andy… Christ… We really have to work on our timing…"

Andy bites down a surprised laugh at that particular turn of phrase. All things considered, Andy thinks their timing is pitch…

_Oh-Oh-Ohhhhh!_

"You know what I mean, McNally" Sam persists. He holds still then, pulls his chest away from her, pulls himself not entirely, but almost out- leaving Andy clenching like she's about to fall.

"_Saaaaaammmmm_…," Andy warns..

For what it's worth, Sam is struggling to regulate his breathing- holding her tight with his hands (holding himself tighter…with…with…_ something_).

"I… I just, I _am_ happy you had the…chance" he says as he pushes in slow again. "But, next time…can we…can we not be…"

Andy cuts him (and herself) a break on that. Pushes back on him in a rush and gets him deeper again.

(Whether it's the hint of desperation- or hope, in his voice, she's not sure. But she knows what he means- realises both of them have been selfish at different times).

The way he moves inside her now, makes Andy feel every single thing she has ever felt for this man. And- well, it's almost too much.

"Sam…!" she gasps, some tears building up in her eyes. "I got you… okay?"

Andy wants to look at him so badly (but not), instead settles for reaching her right hand to where his is, stroking his wrist, then knuckles, before she heads further south.

They are both touching her now; just gentle- fingers back to being tightly interlaced.

Andy's mind goes white as she takes both their hands to where they can feel him moving inside of her-

"Fuck…Andy…" Sam chokes out before biting the back of her neck.

Andy feels it in a way she has never felt before- all the way through every part of her. Feels everything loud inside her - struggles for a while to resist it coming out. Her body shudders frantically though- in a way that makes up for what her voice box has tamped down.

(She wonders if what makes this so high on the Richter is the fact that he's coming as she does.. some perfect synchronicity that they never quite managed the first time around).

They come down at the same time too. Sam's forehead squeezed tight against the side of her neck, his lips on her shoulders- his left hand now has taken to attempting to stroke at the bites.

(They're both going to be sporting some serious marks after this).

He pulls out slow and holds her still.

Andy feels herself wanting to keep her eyes closed. She feels Sam roll away just slightly, then hears herself groan.

Sam clears his throat- oddly stark in amongst what had become a languid softness in the room.

He rolls further away, gets himself up and starts searching- most likely for his clothes?

Andy does _turn_ on that- hard and fast. Shoots him some eyebrows and opens her mouth to ask him anything she can think of about what that action might mean (although, admittedly he's _probably_ not rushing out on her with excuses this time around- she cannot, not, not be feeling that insecure after what they just did..but…).

She catches his eye, and something in him must dawn as he takes a look at her face.

Swiping his top teeth with his tongue, it becomes obvious he's finding it hard to hold down a smile.

He holds his hand out to her: "S'ok, sweetheart. I just want to…"

"What." Andy demands. "What Swarek? What do you…" she snarls (with what she is sure is her best 3 year old scowl planted firmly on face).

Sam's smile breaks big time then. (_Oh, great, and there it goes… the Swarek shy-smile that just earlier in the piece Andy's thoughts had been gushing about)_.

He pulls her to her feet, her mouth twisting in return, (thinking about a more sultry pout). She's trying to avoid eye contact with him over this (can't quite believe he's not going to bolt out the door right after he gets her good and steady).

Her heart does a U-turn though as he gets his hand to her chin, tips her face back, and kisses her once on the mouth.

"Let's go _out_ for breakfast, McNally," he says face still super close to hers…. "Give me a chance to get my head back on straight".

Andy doesn't mean to, but she drops her eyes and frowns again (just a little - can't help but think of how her own head is hardly ever straight when she's within twenty odd yards of him).

Sam pulls her in close, so she's practically tripping on his feet. She's looking down at them actually when he ducks his head - gives her nose a nudge before he bites at her bottom lip.

"Breakfast, McNally? I thought it was your favourite meal of the day?"

Andy slowly unwrinkles her eyebrows and looks up at him- (she can't help but worry how things might pan out as they move away from the bed- God help them, but they truly are avoiders of the first order).

He starts shifting her with purpose - all TO Sam and everything as he looks her up and down.

Somewhere along the way though he starts grinning like a fool (over some silent conversation he's so blatantly had with himself). _Then _Andy remembers how very, very, naked she still is. (It's probably around the time he stops grinning at her and simply nods his head).

Andy swallows and feels her eyes go wide, stutters out a squeaky "breakf…" that gets cut off as he instructs her:

"Yeah, I think we need a shower first".

Andy shivers,

(another instinct taking over though as she beams her biggest smile).


	5. The Cleanup

AN: Thanks so much to everyone who has dropped by to review. I'll send you all a personal hello and thankyou note when I get a chance, but for now I just wanted to say I truly appreciate your generous support! I've found this writing experience surprisingly cathartic – I'm glad some of you are getting a kick out of it too :)

AN2: Reminder that this fic is actually post-post (speculation) of 3.13. It therefore contains a couple of lines that are spoilery of 3.13 itself.

AN3: I've got myself a little bit carried away with what I would call 'froth and bubble' (aka fluff) early on in this chapter. So…apologies in advance for anything too saccharine – but it looks like I may not be getting tooooo serious until show itself shows me some light! Oh, and if you need forewarning: this seems to start off pretty clean…and heads…to something a little less clean… and then attempts to clean that up. LOL. I'm talking in circles I realise… so…enough said!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.**

* * *

Sam has Andy up and over his shoulder before she can weave. (Not that she tried…like, _at all. _They both have a really big and unabashed kink for him picking her up truth be told - anything that entails him 'giving her a lift', apparently).

She would say something to him, but can't for the life of her collect the relevant thoughts. (The view from this angle is, what Andy might call,_ pret-ty spectacular, people_. We are, after all talking about one of the finest assets of Sam Swarek – something his swagger just highlights even more).

The giggles across the living area are stunned into silence when Sam reaches a hand up to smack at her own derriere. He does it once and quick, then follows through with poking her on the hip before he slides her down his turning body - in time to plant her at the bathroom door.

He looks at her face and smirks at her blush- then peers over her shoulder and stares toward what Andy guesses is the vicinity of her claw-foot bath (totally one of the selling points of this place).

Sam blinks a couple of times in quick succession, like he's trying not to give some secret thought away.

Andy waves her hands in front of him, for the life of her she cannot think of what might be more interesting - especially when she is in her best and naked form.

He blinks again and looks at her, sucks in his cheeks and blows out some air. He raises some eyebrow high and hard at her before she finally catches on…

_Oh…_

"Lining up your ducks, McNally?" he queries with a straight face.

(Sometime post break-up, but pre Sam's bomb-defying 'I love you', Gail trotted Andy out for a shopping trip that she thought any good friend should insist upon. _Apparently _it would do Andy some good to branch out, alleviate some post-sex-with-Swarek-frustrations that Gail felt were far too pent up.

Anyway… the nights _after_ the ILU bomb - had all been spent at… well, not at Andy's place…so she had hardly spent any time here…except for the manic packing before she went away…and…).

Point is: Andy's face of realisation at what Sam has just spotted is for sure turning the colour of -

Firstly, the deep pink of the waterproof vibrator standing proudly erect on the soap-holder….

And finally, the practical purple of 'I Rub My Duckie', the delightful little (feathered) dude that was last seen being tossed across the bathroom floor.

"Jerk!" she declares, smacking at his chest as though _he's_ to blame for the offending items.

"Bath-time just got a whole lot _more_ fun," Sam snorts back, pinching at her hip.

"Saaaammmm," Andy whines for the umpteenth time.

(Sure, they never had any issues with talking to one another about anything remotely sex-related before – in fact, it became _the_ topic of talk any time things got just that little bit hard… Which is why Andy is wondering whether this current 24-hour sexathon is such a good idea…

But she just _is_ okay, she is…_embarrassed_ –

What she did in those long, lonely hours PS1 – Post Sam, mark 1 – is kind of personal and private - despite any conclusions that Gail may have jumped to… or that Sam apparently is now…. And, _whatever_…. he may have featured prominently in those personal and private thoughts, but still: details).

He grins at her with his teeth as he reads her face. "Well. Come on McNally. You gonna show me how you play… when I'm not around."

Andy smacks at him again, and throws her words at him snottily: "Ugh, I'll show _you_ how I play."

Sam pops his dimples harder -

Andy hears a tap drip once in the background.

"I mean. You _know_ what I mean," she scowls.

Sam nods at her. "Bath or shower, McNally?" then before she can answer "actually, for the purpose of this exercise, I think we'll both benefit more if you're standing up."

Andy's eyes go very big at that, and her mouth the perfect o.

Next thing she knows, Andy is being shuffled into the shower stall, Sam all: "Hup, hup, hup rookie. Let's get you dirty with clean."

"Sam. Seriously. Is that even meant to be funny?" she smirks.

"Nope," he deadpans, turning the hot and cold on all at once. (Andy has no freaking idea how he does it, but Sam manages to get the water perfectly regulated first time, every go). For the sake of argument though:

"Too hot and hard, Swarek," Andy declares flicking her wet hair over her shoulder at him.

"Sure, McNally. Still. Never been a problem for you before…" he says, squirting some liquid soap down her front.

Andy winces, she figures she walked straight into it – doesn't have a comeback so mumbles "Jerk," instead.

Andy loses track of his hands for a second after that - pleasantly surprised when he comes at her with the loofah. He's gentle about it too – grazing her whole torso carefully between planting wet kisses to her face.

"Turn around," he murmurs, "let me get your back."

Andy doesn't have to be told twice to take that particular order... throws a high-beam smile out of his sightline.

She stands there with her eyes closed and throws her head back a little to let the water run over her. She feels hazy the way he's touching her, all warm, wet and soapy himself…

Andy reaches her arms backward to hold onto his hips (_steady, McNally, steady_).

"This is nice," Andy says, her mouth half full of water.

"You're nice," he replies dryly, dumping a puddle of shampoo on top of her head.

(Once upon a time Andy would never have thought she would get _worked up_ just by having someone washing her hair, but Sam gives good massage- so there it is.)

Andy _moans_ loudly at the touch of his fingers through her hair …. hears Sam laugh friendly behind her, and promptly squeezes his hip.

Her daze continues as he tugs the suds gently through the strands of her hair, rinsing carefully and squeezing it out like a pro.

"Are you sure you weren't a hairdresser before you were a cop?" Andy asks. (Feels a little pang in her tummy as she considers the fact that he's probably very good at this because he's had…like…a _lot_ of experience with women who are not Andy).

Sam probably reads her mind because he's standing super-close behind her now, hugs her at her centre and rubs his cheek against hers: "Just a natural" he says, bobbing his head to tickle his stubble across her collarbone.

"Dork," she laughs (though truly appreciative of his effort to placate some of her insecurities).

"Pot, Kettle. McNally," Sam continues from somewhere not where he was before….

Andy turns in time to see him out of the shower to retrieve the duck -

_Shit…_

She puts her hand up to signal…_something._

"Move back," he tells her in TO mode.

_Oh. Ohhhhhh. _

Sam inches his steps toward her holding the duck out in her general direction (giving it a squeak for good measure – turning vibrate to _on_).

"Sam, the water will go cold.." Andy starts.

"We still have 2 minutes," Sam states as a matter of fact. "And, if I had to take a guess, I'd say that'll be just enough…"

Andy's back is bumped up against the shower wall by now, the tile a cool sensation on her back that is in contrast to the warm water he's directed at her front.

"Show me," he says simply.

(Andy's brain and other body parts are going at about 1000 miles an hour here. She does want to show him, is the thing she is realising… but, but, but…she's kind of worked up enough to want a lot of things. The look on his face, for starters, has her wanting _him_.)

Sam seems to want what he wants though, even though he's already more than halfway hard. So…

Andy snatches the duck and Sam takes a long step back, raising his arms to reach across to both shower walls (Andy guesses he won't be touching her any time soon then… which…does _something_ to whatever is building up inside of her).

She clutches the tail of the duck hard in her palm, her index and middle finger pointing his beak upward so she can control where and how he will land.

She works him slowly down her torso from between her breasts, touching herself with her other hand for special effects. She pauses the duck just below her belly button – let's herself feel the rhythm of the vibration.

At this point she can still watch Sam closely. She sees him clench his jaw and wet his lips. His breathing is steady but shallow - his shoulders moving up and down as she watches two of the fingers on his right hand start to tap against the shower wall.

Andy sucks in a breath as she moves the duck further down. She bites her bottom lip hard as the neck feathers brush over where she is most sensitive.

"Good?" Sam asks as his fists start to clench.

"Um…Yeah" is all Andy's got. Everything swimming around inside of her and Sam being so far away out of reach has Andy in some sort of surreal pleasure-pain.

She gently rubs the ducks beak over her clit, rolling his little round head all around her wetness as she starts moving her hips to chase the friction she is after.

A hiss comes out of Sam and Andy in unison.

"Fuck… Andy, look at you" Sam whispers as she whimpers and lets her head thud back.

Andy is taken aback by how good it all feels: loves that her senses are heightened by tactile surrounds. Loves the vibration that is moving through her core. Loves that he is watching her. (_Loves that he loves watching her_). Mostly she loves that she is barely keeping herself standing in pursuit of it all.

A small orgasm hits her suddenly – strange in its brevity and lack of intensity, given all these things that she feels.

She makes some noise in response to it though, probably frustration at the need for more.

She pops her eyes open and pleads "Sam….,"

(Wants him to help her.

Finds herself surprised when she sees that he's refrained from touching himself).

"You think about me when we were broken up?" he asks breathless.

(Asshole, they've_ been_ through this).

"Yes.." she whispers.

"While you were doing this?" he carries on – eyes raking all over her in an attempt to take it all in.

Andy rubs the duck angrily up and down. She has to clutch her other hand to the top of the shower screen "Fuck. Sam. What. Yes." (She feels furious quite frankly, thinking about how he broke her heart… and why it seems he's using that now to get his rocks off).

She pushes the duck _inside_ her, but it's still not enough: some weird shit is going on like the vibration has her suspended mid air.

She pulls the duck out and throws it at Sam. It hits him in the left shoulder before bouncing off.

"Asshole!" Andy curses.

He's with her in two long strides. He wraps his arms around her, and lifts her left leg up to hook it around his hips.

"Thought about you too," he says… "Every moment of every fucking day".

He slides into her and pulls at her hair to tip her face up and out of his neck.

Sam levels a whole lot of stuff at her as he fucks her gently: "When I went UC. When I thought Brennan killed you. When you left the first time…."

"Sam, please…" Andy breaks.

"When I was an asshole and dumped you…"

Andy grabs a hold of both sides of his face. She lifts her other leg up and around so she can get him deeper and shut him up.

_(Starts to make more noise herself)._

He gives her what she's after then – letting himself move faster with the clutch, clutch, clutch, of her rocking hips.

"This past few months…" Sam says shakily through gritted teeth.

Andy kisses into his mouth hard to shut him up again, moaning long and desperate onto his tongue as he reaches between them to get two fingers on her clit.

She keeps her mouth on his as she comes (good and proper this time), and tells him she loves him over and over until she feels him lose himself.

They are still pinned to the wall, hooked and bumping foreheads as the water runs cold. Sam guides them around like that: turning taps off, navigating slippery floors, and finally placing her on the vanity to reach for a towel.

He pats and rubs at her softly, inspecting his work before he wraps her up tight.

Sam stands with his hands on her thighs, just looking at her for a solid minute straight. Finally -

"We're both a bit _messy_, right?" he says quietly - his face all open and soft.

Andy nods her head, making sure she maintains eye contact and gets hold of his hand.

"Okay, uh," Sam continues: "I just want you to know, sweetheart. Um. There's no one in the world I'd rather have with me.. to help clean up."


	6. The Shave

AN – Well. You can blame 3.13 for this chapter turning so serious! Don't shoot me…they did eventually have to slow down on the sexing and talk ;)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue**

* * *

Andy stills, blinking a few times at Sam, her mouth just short of agape. (All these feelings that he's levelling at Andy in this short space of time? It's a lot).

But.

She's likes it. Like, really, _really,_ likes it.

"I want my mess to be yours, Andy," he says – in all seriousness, and everything.

Andy straight out lunges at Sam as a result of _that_ particular declaration. She gets her muscly legs and arms monkey tight around him, and her face right the heck up to his.

"And I want to be a part of your mess," she says, grinning big.

Sam laughs a bit at her, rubs down her side and gives her a kiss.

"Oh, you _are_ already _that_," he smirks, tickling at her palm.

She yanks her hand away from him without thinking, pulls back to give him one of her _pistachio ice-cream, wtf?_ looks.

She watches Sam's face change, probably white-flag acknowledgement that talking in metaphors is somewhat of a coward's way out. He takes her hand again, this time rubbing his thumb over her knuckles "we've_ already_ established that we're both a bit messy, right. And that things between us … have been…messy?"

She watches him watching her closely: trying to gauge where she's up to with all this (a little confused and anxious is what Andy wants to say…)

"Andy, I'm trying to tell you," he starts, leaning in to her again - kisses her once and quick on the lips.

He moves his body back away again before he carries on: "I want to come clean. To you. Okay?"

Andy can't help but feel even more nervous (she's not sure here whether he's talking about some hideous, dark secret he's going to land on her, or if he's going to let his guard down in a more general sense. Either way she scolds herself: he's telling her he wants to be open and honest with her, and here she is already forming judgements about whatever he might have to say).

Sam smooths down her arms - "I wasn't very fair to you… before. I thought we could just amble along in some happy place – that I could be more like who I thought you wanted me to be," he pauses with a swallow, looks desperately like he's fighting an urge to look away from her. He rolls his eyes then shakes his head – finally looks up toward the ceiling. "Wow. Yep. Verbalising this shit that's in my head is about as rough as I thought it would be."

A flash blurs in Andy's mind – the vision of her and Sam the night Leslie died. Sees very clearly their faces illuminated by fire truck lights – feels heavy with knowledge of all that had been left unsaid _that_ particular night.

Still - she keeps her eyes trained on Sam's face now – is hit sharp by a new appreciation of just how important _Every. Freaking. Single. Moment. Really. __**Is**_**.. **

She squeezes his hand gently, whispers "I'm here."

Sam stays looking at the ceiling. He finally lets out a long, slow breath, and closes his eyes. If she wasn't listening really closely she would probably not hear half of what he says next, "I thought …that I...that we...could live with parts of me that_ weren't_ broken…. That the moments you weren't around ….I could continue along with fixing the rest by myself".

Andy feels profoundly… _moved._ In all their time together, she has merely guessed a lot of stuff about Sam. Worse still: despite the fact that Sam didn't talk a lot about himself, she knows now that she didn't do anything that would have given him a genuine chance. She was so busy propping him up on a pedestal, moving forward with her own lust to live her ideal… "I avoided the mess too, didn't I?"

He finally brings his eyes open and back to her, "I didn't want you to have to carry my baggage, as well as your own. Besides. Re-invention has always been my thing. You could've asked me anything and I would have found a way of interpreting the truth … without either of us feeling hurt."

Sam reaches across and pulls the last of his razors out of Andy's bathroom cabinet. (She hadn't realised he'd left a spare shaving brush or toiletries there – hence: her heart skips a beat).

He pulls her off the vanity, takes the towel off her shoulders and re-wraps it under her arms and ties it at her front.

"You didn't give me everything of you either…" he says, tugging at her towel to check that it's where he needs it to be.

Andy goes to speak, but shuts her mouth when he hands her the razor, choosing his next words carefully, "but you gave me a lot."

She's standing there with her right arm held up - the razor paused, looking down at them both.

He is quiet and sincere with what comes out next: "I've never given myself completely and honestly to anyone for a long … long time, Andy. But for as shit-scared as I am of _being_ with you, I want that for us." He puts a plug in the sink and lets some water run.

"Me too," Andy squeaks, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

Andy watches him closely as he pats his face down. She doesn't move a muscle until he hands her the soap and the shaving brush.

"I know you probably want to know a lot, but let's …let's just take it one step at a time, okay. Slow and easy ….. like you with that razor?" he queries, all faux and steadfast concern matched with a tiny grin.

Andy nods fast, gives him a soft "yeah…Okay. Yeah."

"Okay." He leans back against the vanity, opening his legs so Andy can come closer in. Looks at her suspiciously, hitches a thumb toward the razor, "you know what you're doing here?"

"Sam. C'mon. I do shave my legs".

Sam's eyes flicker down the length of her. He murmurs "right, right. Well. Let me know when that is a thing that's about to happen again."

Andy laughs loudly at him – can't help herself really. "Do you _want_ me to hurt you?"

She realises after an awkward beat that probably wasn't the best thing to say - he responds by putting his tongue in his cheek, casting his eyes down. "Sam...Um…"

He shakes his head and looks back up at her "S'okay. But … let's start there?"

Andy lathers him up - then stops dead as her hands start to shake. "I don't want to hurt you, Sam. I really, really don't."

"Nor I, you," Sam takes her wrists, his index fingers forming little circles on her pulse-points there.

He releases her slowly as she calms down.

She takes her time with the process, moving the razor slowly and gently – checking in with him every now and then. It takes a while with stops and starts, Andy occasionally feeling so overwhelmed by the intimacy that she feels off-balance in more ways than one.

"I do trust you, Andy," he says faintly as she's almost there. "I do. I just… it's… I have to work hard at it … at trusting anything or anyone, sometimes. Sometimes I have to work hard at it."

Andy stops again with the silence - checks that she has missed nothing. She bites her bottom lip, composing herself to ensure it's sincerity that is the only thing that could possibly affect her voice "well, that's one thing we have in common – so…. at least we're not alone?"

Sam smiles with his eyes at that, nodding his head minutely "yeah… I guess now…now...we're both here?"

Andy puts the razor back in its place, taking a towel to gently wipe at Sam's face. When she's done she puts her hands on his chest, moves them up, then further still delicately. Her fingertips go feather-light over him, eventually meeting up at the nape of his neck. His eyes shut as she continues a trail through his hair.

She can feel her heart hammering as she watches his face, her mouth opens slightly to help suck in some air.

Her mind though has a clarity she has never felt before, she thinks no further than that as she tugs his head toward her to get at his face. Their foreheads and noses bump twice and hard before he opens his eyes – their eyes locking together fiercely until…

She dead-set slams her mouth against his.

The kiss is open and desperate, like some kind of cyclone on fire. Andy moves and shoves her _whole_ body relentlessly against as much as she can of Sam… to get…._something_…._(love?)…shit. Anything…everything…_ through to him.

She stops suddenly at the moment her hands reach his face. She examines him for damage (he seems shocked but unscathed).

She backs off just the barest of fractions to let them both regain some breath.

They stare at one another – for seconds – before Sam reaches out for her "Christ, I really fucking am...I am so in love with you".

Andy goes liquid and warm, feeling a whole new kind of glow.

Her _whole_ self relaxes into an easy and tender smile. She strokes her thumbs across his face, as she looks at him deeply and sighs "Feel free not to shave for another few days."


	7. The 33rd Week

AN: Okay, time to let this baby fly the coop! This chapter takes place many months after the last one. Really hope that you've enjoyed the journey – as sketchy and rough as it has often been. Thankyou to all who have followed and favourited - and even bigger hugs to those who have dared to review.

AN2: I also thought it was important for me to say…very carefully… that the 'story' of Sam (well, my version of it) has been left purposely vague (I want to dig deeper there some other time soon ;) I hope in the meantime, you are left feeling happy enough with the tie in the bow of this Sam/Andy AU.

**Disclaimer – I do not own Rookie Blue.**

* * *

32 weeks...

32 weeks of this ritual that every single time has Andy feeling a whole lot like she is holding his life in her hands.

(She knows the timeline for sure because she's been marking the dates. It's not like they _don't_ talk any other time….it's just…well, there are still times when they both clam up. The weekly razor ritual has become their own private sign: a commitment to one another that they won't give up without out a fight).

….

Unless they're on shift, it's always a Sunday - like the first time. The times that it's not, they just switch it to the next or nearest day. It's mostly early morning... well, early-ish. Usually it is a breathtaking follow-up to some heavy-duty make-outs in bed.

Sometimes he has shaved the night before, sometimes not at all for more than 2 days.

(A thing she's noticed: his shaving habits are as up and down as his moods – whether those moods be inflicted by her…or more often, himself).

The one thing though in this past 32 weeks –no matter what happens before or after – he gifts her this time to ask anything she wants…or for him to say anything he thinks he should say.

Every week has been a new revelation. Mostly it's been serious, other times it's done nothing but make her laugh.

In the first 7 weeks, it was all about Sam the cop.

(Stilted stories that started out lightly – the real early ones giving her a snapshot of his rookie days. He deflected a lot; most of the accounts involved how either Jerry or Ollie had somehow - and very - royally screwed up. But. The truth about Sam always appeared in there – somewhere – too. Things she knows now: he's been shot at a lot, but _seriously_ hurt 3 times. One of those – he was brought back from the dead and subsequently pulled out of his deepest UC.

He told her the time Brennan hurt him _didn't_ count – that sure, he had nightmares, but it was outweighed by the fact that he felt something else too…something that was …different… and bigger than pain).

The next 11 weeks revealed Sam - the brother… and son.

(Andy was introduced to a whole new type of silence before each of these damned stories begun. He started on replay, giving Andy merely the facts about Sarah that she already knew.

The week after that was nothing short of Sam rambling – a mix of 5 second vignettes that spanned Sam and his first 16 odd years –

Andy's head felt like it was in a sideshow, her stomach swooping like a vaudeville act swinging with each of his turns. He gradually slowed down, week after week… enough for her to fit a few pieces of the puzzle together…or at least leave them somewhere to bring them out later, and gently probe him for the next 60 years -

- She actually has met his family now – well, the few that are left).

Another 6 weeks were taken up giving her what she felt necessary …. about what Sam's self-confessed 'uncommittable years' –

(she confesses embarrassingly to feeling violently ill about the fact that he actually _had_ loved before –apologised profusely when she nicked his top lip.

She only managed to just hold it together when he told her that she, without question, was like nothing or no one that he'd ever met.

That was that day he told her that she was "the one"-

She cried hard all that day, told him of how fucking stupid and sorry she was to ever, ever, ever, have put him on ice).

The past 8 weeks Sam turned his stories to _them_.

(Confessions just for her: she took his breath away the moment she tackled him; he fell in love with her the day he got over himself.

He gave her everything – even the stuff she couldn't bear to hear.

One week into this phase Andy began adding_ her_ voice to the stories –

Finally, finally, _together_, they began to reveal and revere the facts that were… _them_).

…..

Their ritual today continues - as it always does - with a hand-holding walk to the deli down the road.

(The shave this morning was quiet and gentle…. Each recounting their individual and mutual versions of the day Jerry died…

Andy decided to leave enough stubble to start Sam a goatee -

Sam had stopped to inspect briefly afterward. He smirked but didn't say anything, just planted a playful swat on her behind).

They stop at the deli to get their supplies - then continue along to the park that's not far up the road.

It's a stunning day for a breakfast picnic, actually – and Andy spots the perfect patch for them under a tree.

They set themselves up on the cool grass, sitting super-close with the bagels and coffees perched near their crossed knees.

They chat about what the week holds in general – poker, yoga, girls-night, work, and stuff – then Andy lays back and prompts Sam "okay, time to shut up".

(She likes this part of the ritual too. He lays back shortly after, both of them closing their eyes –he takes her hand in his and they spend the next 10 minutes or so just listening to the rest of Toronto go by. Andy often drifts in to an almost sleep thinking about plans).

She wakes up this time to Sam peering down at her – he's basically on top of her with his knees planted on the ground either side.

(Sometimes they push the PDAs to…well, on a scale of 1-10, possibly an 11 of inappropriate in other peoples' eyes?).

She smiles up at him, noticing what's in his hands. Two double scoop ice-creams - each in its single waffle cone. As per usual: double-choc and pistachio - the flavours alternating as to which lands on top.

Sam grins back at her and swallows as he watches on – clearly noticing her licking her lips.

The ice-creams are just starting to drip… but she can't get the stupid grin off her face. (It's the way he looks a little off balance – like he's about to topple over and create cold carnage between the two of them).

Andy holds her hand out, reaching for one.

"Uh-uh-uh," Sam shakes his head, all of a sudden looking like he might just let them melt in his hands unless she gives him what he's after.

"Fine." Andy gets on her elbows as best she can - tries to lift at least a part of herself off the grass, enough to pucker up her lips in his general direction… "pretty please".

She's got her eyes closed and is wondering what's taking him so long when she hears him sigh.

"Not until you say yes." Sam's breathing is shallow – almost like he's holding two grenades. But. The tone in his voice…. Now, that's something she can't quite detect – like something she's never heard before from him. Gentle? Cautious? Determined? Nervous? Frustrated? Enamoured? Humoured? Genuine…

_Whatever_… Andy thinks (but doesn't say). She opens her eyes to roll them at him, grabs at his right hand to pull at least one of the ice-creams toward where she wants it.

She stops suddenly as it heads toward her nose.

On top in chocolate sauce she sees the scrawly but legible letters: An M, and an E

Andy looks away slowly from the confectionary to peer up at Sam, head cocked and all. "Taking up calligraphy in some spare time that I don't know about, Swarek?"

Sam shakes his head, points the second one carefully in her direction – like he's holding a gun.

Andy looks at it.

And looks closer.

(Oh, for God's sake. She can hardly make out what's written on it – it's so small… and runny by now).

She brings it closer – inspecting it now like it's some horrific crime scene.

_Shit._

MARRY?

Does that actually say…. MARRY? (She means to ask him, but is currently suffering from brain-freeze).

For the life of her – really - Andy cannot fucking breath.

They become some perfect snapshot of time standing heartbreakingly still. Her hands are hooked around his wrists - the ice-creams perched precariously in his hands. She's not sure how he's managing to hold them both in an upward position – he's taking a lot of her weight…

Their eyes are locked, neither one budging - aside them biting their own lips.

Andy opens her mouth, finally convinced she can get the right noise to come from her throat. But just as she does it, Sam loses his balance; toppling on top of her and mashing the ice-creams into her hair.

Andy squeals at the cold as it reaches her ears. Sam's practically a dead weight on top of her, attempting to stifle his laugh in her neck.

She uses every ounce of strength to flip them, catching his hands to pin them above his head.

Andy drops her face over his, flicking her hair to ensure the icy mess is shared. She's laughing hard at his squirming when he finally pulls from her grasp.

He gets a hand to the back of her head and pulls her face closer again. His lips are on hers as he finally says it: "I love you, Andy. Marry me".

Andy kisses him…hard…furiously nodding her head.

She comes up for air a lot of time later, clamps his face in her hand, and stares at him like he's some kind of miracle when she says it to him… and then the world…"Yes, Sam"….

"Oh. My. God. YES!"

**End.**

Thanks again for reading, see you all soon!


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